


I Will Not Let Thee Go

by Spacecadet72



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:38:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacecadet72/pseuds/Spacecadet72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the knight in charge of her protection, Sir Henry has known Princess Abigail her entire life. Now she is trying to help him see that there could be something more to their relationship, and despite his true feelings, he can never give in. </p>
<p>Medieval AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Not Let Thee Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of expansion on a [drabble](http://bearholdingashark.tumblr.com/post/109562441565/what-am-i-talking-about-henry-abigail-medieval-au) I wrote a while back, which was based on a [graphic](http://bearholdingashark.tumblr.com/post/109556426570/henry-abigail-medieval-au-images-from-here) I made after seeing Into the Woods. 
> 
> This is basically a paperback novel romance, and as my graphics skills are not high, please imagine [these](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51STY735HQL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg) [covers](https://imgv2-1-f.scribdassets.com/img/word_document/163602978/original/c33ee296e1/1426553440) with Ioan and MacKenzie's faces on them. :D
> 
> The title comes from The Sapphire Rose by David Eddings:  
> "She got her pale arms around his shoulders and her cheek to his. 'Oh, I have found thee,' she breathed, 'and I love thee, and I will not let thee go.'"  
> Which seemed fitting, especially seeing as the main couple of the series (the she and him of the above line) were the main inspiration for this fic.
> 
> And thank you to [idelthoughts](http://archiveofourown.org/users/idelthoughts) and [aika_max](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aika_max) for beta'ing this and talking me through my inability to decide on a story for the ficathon.

He stood at the perimeter of the garden, clad in the official armor of the palace guard, his back straight and his expression serious. He scanned the garden, keeping his eye on the fair haired princess and her guests as they picnicked in the middle of the castle grounds. 

It was a beautiful day, the sun high above them as fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the deep blue sky. Princess Abigail had invited a small group of nobles’ daughters to the castle, and Sir Henry, as the princess’ protector, was on the lookout for any trouble. 

There didn’t seem to be any. The day had been perfect from the start. No trouble at all, unless you counted the smiles that the princess kept throwing his way. She was being subtle about it, pointing out clouds that took on different shapes or commenting on the beautiful scenery around them and sparing him a glance and a smile as she did so. 

He was doing his best not to smile back. It was not his place. His family had been serving hers for the past four generations, and as such, he’d known her since she was a babe. He could remember the celebration their majesties had thrown after her birth. He had been twelve years old and training to follow in his father’s footsteps as a member of the royal guard. 

She turned to look at him again, her lips turning up at the corners slightly, and he kept his mouth in a resolutely straight line. Which was becoming more and more difficult as she sat there with the sun glinting off her golden hair, the fabric of her light blue dress matching the color of her eyes and her expression radiant and joyful. He met her gaze and took some pride in the fact that the left corner of his mouth only twitched up slightly, and then he looked away, keeping his eyes open for any dangers. 

But the garden was free of intruders, and no one who was supposed to be present had made any move on the princess. So he stood, silent and serious, in direct contrast to the laughter and mirth coming from the group of young ladies several paces away from him. 

“You look so serious.” Abigail said later as she walked up to him. The ladies had finished their meal and dispersed to explore the garden. 

“I must be on the lookout for any threat to your person, Your Highness.” he said, his tone formal and he was only just able to stop his mouth from forming a smile. 

Abigail merely gave him a look of affectionate exasperation. 

“We are inside the castle grounds with a number of your guards on the lookout as well,” she said as she gestured to the other men in gray armor standing around the garden. “We are safe. You could enjoy yourself. It is a beautiful day. I would hate to think you spent most of it scowling.” 

“I have not been scowling. And Your Highness has been distracting me.” This time he could not keep the slight smile off of his face, but he could avoid meeting her eyes. “I need to be focused on my duties, and you have your guests to attend to.” 

She brushed past his serious words with a smile of her own, a full one that made her even more beautiful and breathtaking. He kept his eyes on the garden. 

She moved in closer to him, and her next words were spoken softly, with a conspiratorial air. 

“Have I been a distraction?” she asked, one eyebrow raised. “I thought it was your duty to keep an eye on me.” 

Henry sighed. They had always been close. He had been tasked to watch over her since she was a small child, and that had led to a familiarity that he treasured. But lately, her attentions had taken a more intimate—and, given their stations—inappropriate, bent one that he was duty-bound to ignore, even if all he wanted was to respond in kind. 

“It is. You should return to your guests.” he said, bowing his head to her before he walked away to make the rounds of the garden.  
——-  
She found him in the library after her Latin lesson a few days later. She pulled a book down from one of the shelves, one he knew she had been reading for the past several days, and sat primly in the large upholstered chair next to his. 

“Your Highness.” he greeted, looking up from his book as she sat down. 

“Henry.” she replied with a knowing grin. As a child, she had always called him Henry, and he had not seen it as a problem. Now, instead of being endearing, it implied a familiarity he was trying to avoid. 

He sighed, but knowing it wouldn’t do any good to correct her, he remained silent. 

She didn’t push, and they read in silence, the quiet comfortable and familiar. He enjoyed her company, even as much as he was trying to set clear boundaries. Boundaries neither of them really wanted, but he seemed to be the only one willing to set them. 

Henry looked up from his book when he heard Abigail close hers. He met her smile with one of his own, and set his book aside.

“Is it still as enjoyable a read the tenth time?” he asked, his tone teasing as he turned his body to face her more fully. 

She nodded. “It remains my favorite.” 

“I don’t see how you can spend so much time on one story when you have this whole library full of knowledge,” he said with a shake of his head, as he looked around at the shelves and shelves surrounding them full of large, leather bound volumes. 

“And I don’t understand how you never take the time to savor and revisit the volumes that speak to you. You can learn much from reading stories again. Old stories become new as we change, and they change with us.” she said, her smile never leaving her face but her tone becoming more passionate as she spoke. 

He stared at her for a moment but remained silent. 

“What is it?” she asked as he still said nothing. 

“I am constantly amazed by what comes out of your mouth.” he said with a shake of his head, his eyes never leaving hers. 

Her lips curved into a smile, and she opened her mouth to speak, when a servant by the door cleared his throat, causing them both to look up.

“Your Highness, dinner is served.” 

She thanked the servant, and they both stood. She seemed disinclined to share what she had been about to say, and Henry wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Instead, he offered her his arm, and together they left the library.  
——-  
Abigail stepped out into one of the smaller gardens after dinner, voicing a need for fresh air. He followed a few steps behind, allowing her some privacy, but as always keeping his eye out for anything out of place. 

“It is a beautiful night, don’t you think?” she asked without turning to look at him. 

He walked forward to stand next to her, as she knew he would. “That it is.” 

“Would you like to go for a walk with me? The nights have been strangely warm for so late in the year.” Her words were spoken lightly, but he knew her well enough to know that there was more to this invitation than needing someone to accompany her on her walks. 

“Abigail…” he began, not sure how to broach the subject.

She knew exactly what he was about to say, however, and spoke first. “I know you’ve been aware of my advances.” she began, slowly, some awkwardness in her tone even as she kept her eyes on him. “Why do you continue to rebuff them?”

“I am too old for you.” he protested, knowing he should take a step back, put some distance between them, but not wanting to be any farther away from her than he had to be. 

She looked at him in exasperation. “You are not old. And I am not a young girl anymore. I am well past marrying age, and you are just using that as an excuse.” 

"This can never work." he said, a desperate note in his tone as he tried to get her to see. 

"Why not?" she asked as she took a step closer, her expression determined.

"Your father—" he began, the excuse rolling easily off his tongue before she cut him off. 

"My father knows that I am old enough to make my own decisions." she countered, shooting him a look that told him he would have to try harder to sway her. 

"I am not your equal." 

"You are." she said earnestly, the sincerity and strength of her belief in that statement clear on her face. 

"Princess—" he began with a sigh. 

"No, you are in all the ways that matter. Do you think I want to spend my days with a prince who values me only for what I can bring to his kingdom?" She shook her head. "We are good together, and I love you. We can figure out the rest." 

He kept his head down and didn't answer, not trusting his ability to keep to his arguments when what she was saying rang so true. 

“If you tell me that you do not love me, then I will stop. We can be princess and guard, go back to our roles as before, and I will never speak of this again.” She raised an eyebrow in expectation, and even as he opened his mouth to tell her those words, he faltered. 

He could hardly form the words in his mind, let alone speak them aloud to her. He shut his mouth instead and remained silent. Her attention on him was too much, and he dropped his eyes. He feared he might do something rash if he kept looking at her. 

“Henry, look at me.” she commanded, and he was helpless to resist. 

He met her gaze, and she was much closer than she had been when he looked away. He felt himself move closer to her. She pushed up on her toes to reach him, and he knew he had to stop this now or he never would. 

He pulled back, taking a step backwards as he did so, needing to put space between them. He cleared his throat. “You should be getting back inside, Your Highness. The hour is late.” 

She stared at him, looking hurt and confused, before she turned to walk back inside the castle without another word.  
——-  
The next several days found them tense and quiet. They had been so comfortable around each other, a familiarity that came from being in close proximity for her entire life. It was difficult to go back, to pretend that she had not admitted her love for him just days prior, while he had stood silent and unable to give her what they both wanted. Instead of the easy friendship, their interactions were civil, and distant. 

Henry had not changed his mind about the nature of their relationship, but he missed her. She had been his near constant companion for the past eighteen years. He felt the depth of the loss even as he saw her every day. 

“Your Highness.” he said to her with a stiff half bow after greeting the king as he entered the dining room one morning, almost a week after their talk. She answered back with a nod, her eyes meeting his in a cool defiance before turning her attention to the food laid out in front of her. 

She never had been one to back down from a challenge, and how he loved her spirit. He knew that she thought he was just being stubborn. Could she not see that he was saving them years of heartbreak and misery by putting a stop to this now?

“Darling,” the king began from the other end of the table, “the eldest prince from Meliotania will be arriving in a few days. Please make him feel welcome.” 

Henry stiffened at the implication behind the king’s words and did not look over to see Abigail’s reaction. It did not matter how he felt. This was her life and what she was meant to do. Marry a prince to strengthen the position of her kingdom and lead them to prosperity while raising their heirs. 

“Of course, father.” Abigail murmured, her voice low and subdued. 

Henry pushed back the memory of her voice in his mind. 

_“Do you think I want to spend my days with a prince who only values me for what I can bring to his kingdom?”_  
——-  
The prince arrived three days later and it was more unbearable than Henry had expected. As with all royal visits, he stayed at the back of the room, a silent and all but invisible presence, always on the lookout for someone who meant to do harm to Abigail. This led to long days of standing still and watching her smile at Prince Jonathan, who seemed quite taken with her. 

He was tall and broad shouldered, young and handsome as a prince should be. He would make a fine prince consort, and the alliance between the two kingdoms would protect both of their lands for generations. 

Somehow, this logic did not stop the acidic feeling in the back of his throat or the knot in his stomach.  
——-  
The morning after Jonathan’s last day at the palace was quiet. Abigail was painting in the east garden, and the sun was bright against a pale blue sky, even if both she and Henry were wearing cloaks to ward off the mid morning chill. 

“You did not like Prince Jonathan?” Abigail asked, her eyes focused on her paints. She dipped her brush into a deep red and applied it to the canvas. 

“He seems a fine ruler.” Henry replied as neutrally as he could, his tone polite and detached. 

“You spent his entire visit scowling at him from the corner.” Abigail pointed out, looking up from her painting to give him a teasing smile. 

Henry did not try to deny the claim; she was right. 

“He will make you a fine husband,” was all he said, and knew it was the wrong thing as soon as the words left his mouth. 

Abigail set down her paintbrush, turned in her chair to face him fully and gave him an arch look. 

“What if I don’t want him for my husband?”

“There are other princes who will serve just as well.” 

“What if I do not want a prince?” she asked, standing suddenly, her teasing manner replaced with a resolute seriousness. 

Henry looked down, avoiding her gaze. 

“This is the life you are meant to lead, and I don’t play that part in it.” 

“That is not the life I want.” she said, a desperation in her voice that hit him like a physical blow. 

“It is your responsibility to lead the kingdom…”

“You think I cannot do that with you by my side?” she interrupted, her eyes flashing in anger. “I love you, and you make me better. Surely that is what is best for the kingdom and its ruler.” 

“That is not how these things work.” he said softly. He knew they were both right, but her view would not be their reality. That knowledge hurt so much that it ached. 

“Maybe it is how they should be.” she said, moving closer to him. He didn’t step back, or try to make her stop. He wasn’t sure he could fight this anymore. 

He opened his mouth to answer her when he heard a rustle from behind them. He straightened and focused all of his attention on where he had heard the sound.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to follow his gaze and see what he saw. 

He shook his head, and moved himself in front of her. He didn’t draw his sword, but he kept his hand on the hilt. 

Everything was silent and still, until in the next moment, a man crashed out of the foliage at the edge of the garden and ran straight for them. Henry drew his sword and stepped fully out in front of the princess. 

The man was only carrying a small dagger, and Henry was able to knock it out of his hand before thrusting the sword through the man’s chest. The attacker crumpled, and Henry pulled out his sword. 

“Henry!” Abigail called out, and Henry turned towards her, about to ask what was wrong, when an arrow pierced his chest. He staggered back, and looked to the outer wall, where a second man stood with a crossbow. 

One of the other guards shot back, and the man fell. Henry waved off the guard as he ran over to see to Henry’s wound. 

“Take the men, and go see if there are others.” he commanded, grimacing against the pain. 

The guard nodded, and the rest of the guards ran off with him. 

Henry could not ignore the pain any longer. He heard Abigail’s distressed “Henry!” and felt the hilt of his sword slip through his fingers but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the pain in his chest and the fact that the ground was coming ever closer as he collapsed. 

He felt Abigail catch him and lower them both to the ground. 

“Henry? Henry!” Abigail cried. 

Henry knew enough about the injuries a man could sustain to know that he didn’t have very long. He looked up at Abigail, her eyes red as tears fell, and she was so beautiful. He couldn’t remember now why he hadn’t committed to love her for as long as he was alive. There had been a reason, but now his whole world was the pain radiating out from his wound and the woman crying above him. 

He couldn’t make his arms move, or he would have reached a hand up to wipe her tears away. 

“Abigail...I’m sorry.” he managed to get out, but speaking was becoming as difficult as moving, and everything seemed slow and dim. 

“No, don’t apologize. The guards will fetch the physician, and you will live.” Her tears were coming in earnest now, her voice thick and shaky. 

He shook his head, knowing he didn’t have that much time. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too. Don’t leave!” Abigail sobbed, her arms shaking, and Henry took one last, shallow breath as everything went dark.  
——-  
He woke with a gasping breath, bursting out of the water, his arms flailing to keep himself afloat. Once he had calmed and began treading water, he looked around. He appeared to be in a large river with land not far from where he was. He swam to the bank and climbed out.

Was this heaven? He knew he had died, had felt the life leaving his body as Abigail held him in her arms. He hadn’t imagined the entry to heaven being a large river. He certainly hadn’t imagined himself without clothing when he thought about the afterlife. 

The afterlife. He was dead, really, actually dead. He had known of course that was always a possibility. There were always people who wanted to harm the royal family, and stopping those people always came with an element of danger. He had not thought it would come so soon, however. His father had lived to old age, and that was still a few decades off for Henry. Or had been. 

He remembered the last minutes of his life, Abigail’s tear-stained face above him as the pain almost overwhelmed his senses. Abigail. He should have listened to her, taken what happiness they could before the end. Now she was alone. He felt relief at the fact that he had not left her alone with the attackers. If there were more, the other guards would apprehend them. He had done his duty until the end, and she would be safe. 

He could picture her, kneeling on the grass, her dress stained with his blood, her eyes red, her face crumpled as she sobbed over his body. He would not see her again. Not for a long time. He hoped it was a long time, hoped her life was long and happy. Even if he would not be there to share it with her in whatever way he could. 

He had seen her every day for the past 18 years, and now he would never see her again. The thought was a heavy one, and it finally hit him. He fell to his knees, tears of his own falling as he grieved for the life he could have had, the life he had fought against, but that he had so wanted. 

He stayed there, on his knees at the bank of the river, mourning, until the sun began to set. He shivered. He was surprised that the afterlife was so like the world he had left behind. He stood up, knowing he would need to find clothes and shelter. The sun had not finished setting and the air was already bitterly cold. 

He did not have to walk far before he happened upon a small cottage, surrounded by trees. The dim light of a candle could be seen through the window. 

He knocked on the door, and was grateful that the person who answered the door was a man. 

“I am sorry to disturb you, but may I borrow some clothing?” he asked, his hands lowered to cover himself. He didn’t bother with an excuse. If the entrance to heaven did, indeed, require one to be unclothed, this man should understand. 

The man was tall and thin, and younger than he was. He looked perplexed, but his expression soon turned to one of recognition. Henry felt a rush of relief and gratitude as the man ushered him into the cottage. 

He handed Henry a worn tunic and pair of breeches and politely turned his back as Henry put them on. 

“Did my lord have trouble with an enemy?” the man asked, the curiosity in his voice obvious. 

“An enemy?” Henry asked as he pulled the tunic over his head. “Why would I have enemies here?”

The man turned around and it was his turn for confusion. 

“The enemies of the royal family, my lord.” he answered slowly. “You are the head of the princess’ guard? I recognize you from the deliveries I make to the castle.”

Henry could not quite understand what the man was saying. 

“I was, but...then I am not dead?” How was that possible? He had died; he knew that. 

The man laughed, but there was an edge of concern to it. 

“You seem quite alive to me, my lord. Have you had much to drink tonight?”

Henry was still trying to process all of this. If he was alive, that meant...Abigail! He was not sure how he was still alive, but his priority was, and had always been, her. He turned urgently back to the man. 

“How close are we to the castle?”

“Not far, but my lord, it is late—”

“You said you make deliveries. Do you have a horse?” Henry was already moving for the door, already making plans. If he could just get back to the castle, back to Abigail… “May I borrow your horse?”

“My horse? Of course, my lord, only…” the man sounded nervous now.

Henry turned back to face him. 

“What is your name?”

“Lucas.” 

“Lucas, I give you my word as a knight that I will return your horse to you in the morning, but I need to get to the palace tonight.”

The man nodded. 

“Of course, my lord. She is just outside.” 

Moments later, Henry was on his way to the palace.  
——-  
“Sir Henry!” the guards at the gate looked shocked, but let him pass. He nodded absently at them, instructed them to put the horse in the stables, and then he was off to find Abigail. 

She was still in the garden, and she had changed into a different dress. She looked tired, and he could see that she had probably been crying since he left. 

He stepped into the garden, and she looked up at the sound of his footsteps. 

"Henry?" Abigail asked, her voice catching on his name, her hand flying to her mouth. 

“I don’t know what happened, I’m sorry.” he said as they each made their way to each other. He pulled her into his arms and held her to his chest. She clutched at his shoulders and held onto him just as tightly. He didn’t care if it was inappropriate. He needed to feel the comfort of her embrace, to prove to himself that this was real, that he was alive and well and back here with her.

“I am sorry. I am so sorry.” he kept up the litany of apologies: for trying to keep them apart, for denying her and his feelings, for leaving her, for the time she had been alone and thinking he was gone. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she murmured into his tunic. “Nothing at all. You are home. That is all that matters.” 

He could only nod, his eyes growing wet. 

He pulled back, finally, needing to look in her eyes. 

“I am sorry,” he said, feeling the full weight of the guilt for all the pain he caused her both knowingly and not. 

She smiled softly up at him and reached up to brush a curl off of his forehead. 

“I told you, you have nothing to atone for.” 

He shook his head. 

“I do. I never should have fought us. It may be rash, and foolish, and everything I had hoped to avoid by trying to remain as we were before, but I see now how foolish it was of me to think that I could go the rest of my life not loving you.“

There were tears in her eyes, and she just gave a small nod before pushing up on her toes and pressing her lips to his. 

This time, there was no stopping it, no pulling back. He wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer to him and deepened the kiss. She brought one hand up tangle in his hair. They pulled back after several moments, resting their foreheads against each other. 

“I love you,” Henry whispered, the moment too sacred to break it with anything louder than that. 

Abigail laughed softly, her smile wide, and she looked as happy as he felt, a smile of his own stretching across his face. 

“I love you.” she replied, before he moved in closer and kissed her again. 

Tomorrow, he would worry about how they would do this, what all of this meant, why he was alive, but for now, he was content to stay exactly where he was.


End file.
